“Revenge increases our pain whenever it has failed to end, or at least decrease, our pain.” - Mokohama Mokhonoana

  * * * *

  The war room in Ashenridge was quiet save for the rhythmic hum of the encrypted signal blocker stationed beside the old, battered portable computer. A faint blue glow from the screen bathed the space in an eerie light, reflecting off maps, weapons, and scattered data chips strewn across the dark wood table.

  On the screen, three video feeds flickered—one showing the elegantly dressed Larissa and the ever-grim Hayder from the Abyss, the second feed displaying the Blade remnants in Zalfari’s Pandemonium, Leroy, Alisa, Lleucu, Jamie, and Wes, and the third showing Sera, Rex, and Zest seated in the Ashenridge war room, illuminated only by dim overhead lights and the fire crackling in the hearth behind them.

  Despite the weight of everything that had occurred—the destruction of ESA Headquarters, the massacre of the Eldario Council, the revelation of Nicolosi’s master plan, and even what they’ve done since to counter the hunters, there was no chaos in this room.

  No screaming. No desperation. Only tension. Like the eye of a storm before it decided where to strike next.

  Sera sat at the center of the frame, her spine straight, her arms folded over her black coat, and her mismatched eyes steeled but shadowed by exhaustion.

  Rex, seated beside her, leaned forward with his forearms braced against his knees, caramel hair tousled from too many sleepless nights. His dark brown eyes bore the weight of knowledge no man should have to carry—knowledge of Project Nona, of what the hunters truly were, and even of what Eldario was rapidly becoming. His mouth was set in a hard, grim line.

  Zest slouched back in his chair, but his fingers were trembling lightly, tapping restlessly against his leg. His flame-hemmed hoodie cast an odd glow against the dim light, and his red eyes gleamed like dying embers. He hadn’t spoken much since they connected the call. But when he did, his voice cut sharp as glass.

  The image in the third feed was more chaotic—Pandemonium’s second level, in Zalfari.

  Leroy sat in front of a cluttered desk, his arms folded across his deep red shirt, while behind him, Lleucu leaned silently against a wall with his hands in his coat pockets. Alisa sat near the corner, her blue eyes glinting beneath a hood she hadn’t pulled down. Wes, still pale and walking with crutches, sat near the back, the side of his face partially shadowed, his wounds barely healed. And then there was Jamie, standing off to the side like a ghost returned from the dead. His strip of white hair glinted faintly under the overhead lights, his dagger tattoo nearly black against his neck.

  Larissa, the Premier of the Abyss, exuded grace even through the call, seated with perfect posture in her dark navy dress that shimmered subtly in the low light. Her chocolate-brown eyes were sharp, her lips drawn in contemplation.

  Beside her, Hayder loomed like a silent storm, his grey trench coat rumpled, silver-grey hair jutting in defiance of civility, the black eyepatch over his left eye lending him the permanent scowl of a soldier who’d seen too much.

  For a long moment, no one spoke. The air was heavy with what had to be said.

  Then Leroy broke the silence.

  “The mainstream media is still under Nicolosi and the hunters’ control,” he said, his tone laced with cynical amusement. “So no surprise that there’s nothing from that end since the broadcast had gone out. Not even an attempt to muzzle the backlash. Because if Nicolosi did try to suppress anything right now, it’d be the same as admitting that he was behind the massacre at ESA headquarters. And everyone would know it.”

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  He grinned, but it was without humour. A wolf baring its teeth.

  “Online and in public forums, though?” Jamie added, his voice lower, and more controlled. “There’s backlash. A lot of it. Especially in the underground nets and encrypted forums. We're not spelling it out for the people. We’re just giving them enough pieces to put it together on their own. And they are. Even some of the newer hunter recruits are beginning to question the official narrative.”

  Alisa tilted her head, brushing her hair behind her ear. “That part’s true. In Zhane City alone, the whispers are everywhere. People are angry, not just afraid anymore. They’re confused, and confusion breeds doubt. Some of the smaller taverns and inns refuse to serve the hunters outright now. It’s not much, but it’s something.”

  “So far,” Rex muttered, “seems like our plan is working.” His words hung heavy in the room. A rare sliver of hope, but one lined with thorns. “Now if only the rest of it would go that smooth…” He added, his tone darkening again.

  Zest gave a mirthless chuckle, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It won’t. It never does.”

  Lleucu spoke next, his voice always soft but with an eerie clarity that cut through the static.

  “The hunters are now stretched thin,” he said. “They’ve been spending most of their time and forces trying to control the riots, especially in places like Zhane City, where public loyalty was always stronger with the ESA. They’re not used to being questioned. And now, they’re being fought.”

  Hayder gave a small nod, his golden eye narrowed. “Zhane City was always ESA territory. Most of their agents grew up there. The people saw them as their own—as protectors, not enforcers. What the hunters did won’t be forgotten. That town… It’s a spark waiting for a match.”

  “The other towns, however,” Larissa added smoothly, “those more aligned with the hunters’ doctrine—those built on hatred and fear of the Gifted, they remain quiet. For now. But even there… Cracks are starting to form.”

  There was a moment of heavy silence.

  Sera’s eyes dropped to the table. “It still feels like a drop in an ocean,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone. “But drops become waves. And to be honest, I’ll be concerned if things goes that smooth.” Then she looked up. “Larissa. You had something for us?”

  The Premier inclined her head slightly. “You asked us to investigate the location of Blue Pandora’s manufacturing facility. I passed the request to Ethan immediately. If anyone in the Abyss could track something that buried, it would be him. And he did.”

  Zest leaned forward. Rex stopped breathing. Sera blinked once.

  “From one of his contacts in Blackpool’s Entertainment District,” Larissa continued, “from the most frequented pleasure house in that hellhole. The Velvet Lure.”

  “And?” Sera asked, her voice tight.

  “Blue Pandora’s manufacturing facility…” Hayder said grimly. “It’s located at Kald. In their secondary base. Level 3. The level they don’t officially list. It’s underground, hidden from surface scans. But it’s there.”

  The room turned deathly silent.

  Wes’s breath hitched. His hands clutched the armrests of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The shadows on his face deepened. Kald. The hunters’ secondary base.

  Lleucu reached over, placing a steady hand on his brother’s shoulder. There was no pity in his expression. Only pain. And rage.

  Zest let out a long breath and pressed a palm to his temples. “We’re going to have to go back there, aren’t we?” he muttered.

  “Ethan retrieved the blueprints,” Hayder said. “He’ll send them through a separate encrypted channel after this call. But… Sera, they’ll know the moment you step foot inside. There’s no stealthing your way in. This isn’t a breach. It’s a declaration of war.”

  “It’s Veridale all over again,” Zest muttered.

  Rex looked up, his voice grave. “If Blue Pandora is that important, the hunters won’t hesitate to destroy it if they think they’re going to lose it. They’ll have failsafes, and remote detonation systems. Self-destruct protocols. The works.”

  “That’s not the only problem,” Sera said quietly. The tension in her voice drew all eyes back to her. “It’s the water purification plant I’m worried about. The information from my aunt suggested they were refining Blue Pandora into a liquid form. More stable. More easily distributed. Whether or not that new and refined form of Blue Pandora is ready, I am not willing to risk the hunters slipping Blue Pandora into the water supply. If they succeed… If they slip that into the national water supply…”

  No one finished the sentence. They didn’t need to.

  Poisoning a nation’s water? It was no longer war. It was annihilation.

  Leroy ran a hand through his hair. “Short of destroying the purification plant…” He stopped. Because he saw the look on Sera’s face. “Damn it, Sera,” he muttered. “You’re seriously considering it? That place supplies water to the entire country! If you do this, you’re going to be making all of Eldario your enemy!”

  Sera didn’t blink. “I’m not here to be liked,” she said. “I don’t care if they worship me or curse my name. Whether the people know the truth or not to why we’re targeting the plant doesn’t matter to me. That’s not what this is about. I’ve watched too many people die because of silence and compromise. If I have to choose between their hatred and everyone being poisoned, then they can hate me. Let them.”

  “She’s right,” Zest said. “We can’t risk the hunters slipping Blue Pandora into the water while we weren’t looking. Not while we’re chasing ghosts.”

  Rex exhaled heavily. “Let’s…first look into whether we can permanently shut the plant down. Disable it without harming the people. If not…”

  “Then the next phase begins,” Leroy finished. He stood straighter. “Destroy Blue Pandora’s manufacturing facility. That means Kald. And if we have no other choice… The water purification plant.”

  And so it was decided. Not with cheers or proclamations. But with a cold, quiet acceptance.

  The war wasn’t just coming. It had already begun.